


Antagonism

by Apple_Cheol



Category: Mobile Legends: Bang Bang (Video Game)
Genre: Bark Bark, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Punishment, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, hayazo, hey past self why did you write this, idk either bruh, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apple_Cheol/pseuds/Apple_Cheol
Summary: “Do you like antagonizing me, Hanzo? Is this what this is about? Because you know I like it—by all the gods, I love it—but to act up when we still have one match left—naughty, naughty. What shall I ever do about you?”
Relationships: Hanzo/Hayabusa (Mobile Legends: Bang Bang)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Antagonism

**Author's Note:**

> ahdoiadjjaijsiijds i was uh, listening to corpse's music when i wrote this but instead of being angry smut like i intended it became something else? uhhhhhhhhh enjoy the brainrot

Pale hands bang against the metal wall, making a hollow thud. One wrist pinned back by a different hand, the touch warm and half-obscured by cloth. The other hand leaves the wall, pulling someone closer, or maybe pulling someone’s clothes away. It is heady and frantic and hard to tell.

“Take this off,” Hayabusa whispers against Hanzo’s mask, before moving down to his neck. “Take all of this off.”

“Haya-kun,” Hanzo only whimpers, hands motionless, one of them frozen on the edge of Hayabusa’s hood. “We still have another match—“

“Do I look like I care?” Hayabusa looks back up at him, and it’s unfair, every bit of him is hidden, all black and red, save for those eyes—they burn into Hanzo’s like a brand, trying to claim him, like he was a piece of property—

“Tsk. How disobedient.” Hayabusa’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away from Hanzo—who doesn’t even know to be disappointed or relieved—but he tears off the hood, and the mask, and he dives back against the other ninja’s body as though he couldn’t stay away for too long. “Am I to do everything myself?”

The headpiece comes off first, and pieces of red fall into Hanzo’s eyes, and Hayabusa gently brushes them back, even kissing against the lines of his eyebrows. “First you steal my buffs, invade our jungle, and single me out during every clash…”

The pieces of armor fall off next, quicker than he realizes, in contrast to Hayabusa’s drawling tone. “Then you kill the lord, during a _classic_ match, like some sort of _sore loser_ …”

“… And now you can’t even take your armor off for me? Must you always make this difficult for me?” Hayabusa finally takes off the mask, and Hanzo can’t miss the quick gleam of desire that flashes in Hayabusa’s eyes when his face is fully exposed—his cheeks and lips feel chilly—

“Do you like antagonizing me, Hanzo? Is this what this is about?” Their foreheads touch, breaths mingling, humid against the stale breeze of the waiting lobby. “Because you know I like it—by all the gods, I _love_ it—but to act up when we still have one match left—naughty, naughty. What shall I ever do about you?”

Hayabusa is mere inches away from him, hands roaming all over like pottery being molded, a knee erratically nudging his crotch then gravitating away—but it’s still not enough, the touches are too light, too fleeting, like he’s still training to be a shadow, and in that moment Hanzo decides—he hates it. He’s beyond disappointed.

“Kiss me,” He mutters brokenly, both an answer and a command, tugging on Hayabusa’s arms, frustrated when they don’t budge. “Haya-kun, kiss me—“

“Not until you understand the situation, baby,” He kisses Hanzo’s temple—the hell? How is he still affectionate even when he’s being dominant? “You made me very, very stressed today. So I’ll have to think twice before fulfilling your requests. Don’t you think that’s fair?”

“But Haya-kun—“ _Hurry_ , he wants to cry out, _damn him,_ the glare Hayabusa gives him could intimidate enemies at any other incident, but right now all it serves to do is melt Hanzo, turn him into putty.

“ _Haya-kun?_ Are you sure you’re addressing me correctly?”

“ _Daddy_!” The word rips its way out of Hanzo, a string forcefully pulled, he’s a puppet manipulated by this infuriatingly alluring assassin. “ _Daddy,_ kiss me, hold me, _please—_ “

An arm winds around Hanzo’s waist, though his head remains leaning against the wall. Hayabusa bends along perfectly with his body, a puzzle locking into place. The other hand cups his face, scorching his skin.

“That’s better, baby boy,” Hayabusa grins, and Hanzo drowns. Or maybe he’s revived. Hayabusa’s kisses are encompassing, and drawn-out, and breathless, and once again, as it is customary for ninjas, it is hard to tell.

Hayabusa’s lips move against his desperately, as though _he’s_ the one being punished, and Hanzo moves against him just as hurriedly, matching his tempo, or _trying_ to, and in the end he gives up, letting Hayabusa decide the pace, the ninja’s tongue slipping into his mouth, robbing him of breath, giving him back his pleasure, _what match? What are you talking about?_ There’s only Hayabusa, Hayabusa and his lips, his hands, his hair, his leg pressing against—

“Is my baby boy hard?” A hand gropes Hanzo’s crotch, _roughly_ , and the squeak that slips out of his mouth is demeaning, embarrassing. “Does my baby need help?”

“I—I—“ It is hard to think, much less talk, Hayabusa’s hand is touching him through the fabric, his lips are ghosting against his face. “Haya—daddy—“

“Almost slipped up there, baby,” Hayabusa slyly pulls down the hem of Hanzo’s pants. “Come on. You know you have to use your words, or daddy won’t do it.”

“Mmmmm…” Hanzo’s head lolls against the wall, senses lost. The arm that was once around his waist comes back to his torso, dragging along his abs, teasing his nipples. “Daddy… touch me…”

“Inside voice, baby… it’s too soft…”

“T-touch me—daddy—please—need you to touch me—“

“Where?”

“Down—down there—“

“Like, here?” Fingers squeeze his thigh, and Hanzo has to stop himself from whining, he knows Hayabusa doesn’t like it when he complains—

“Noooooo…”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to show me…” Hayabusa’s lips curve into a wicked smile. “Where do you want daddy to touch you, baby?”

“I want d-daddy to touch me…” Hanzo lets out a pathetic sob, he shouldn’t be doing this—how dare his common sense make an appearance now, he’s supposed to be beyond all rational thought—and he pulls on Hayabusa’s hand, fumbling so that the front of his pants are tugged down until his half-hard member is exposed to the cold air—Hayabusa takes the lead from there, his strokes long and definite—but slow, thorough—“there.”

“Here?” Hayabusa goads him on, and all of a sudden the strokes are simply _not there—_ they’re too gentle, less like skin and more like air, Hanzo’s hands ball into fists, what is this _idiot doing—_

“Yes,” He answers through gritted teeth, he thrusts into the touch, hoping for any friction, but Hayabusa pins his hips back to the wall, and the strokes are _still_ too light.

“Speak with words, not your body, baby. What do we need?”

“I—we—need to—harder—“

“What?”

“I need _more_ , daddy, _please_ ,” Hanzo bites his lips, the fists clench and unclench, it doesn’t do anything—it certainly doesn’t prepare him when the touches come back full force, and his dick is standing at full length, precum dripping making Hayabusa’s job easier. Hanzo lets out a gasp when his brain registers the change, and it takes all his control not to move along with Hayabusa’s hand, to stay under Hayabusa’s guidance, to let him take the reins.

“There, baby, is that alright?” His strokes pick up a hair in speed, but Hanzo feels it all, his whole body sensitive to the slightest change, ready to perceive anything that would heighten the peak it’s chasing right now—

“Baby.” A lick along the apple of his neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” Hanzo finally wraps his arms around Hayabusa’s neck, uncaring of the consequences, keeping him in place, burying his face in the ninja’s shoulder, he smells like sweat and the grass from the arena, the barest hint of sandalwood oil and something that is unexplicably Hayabusa, _his_ Hayabusa—canon be damned, this man belongs to him, and him alone—“I love your touch, so _so_ much, daddy, so good, more—“

“Does my baby need to come?” He can feel Hayabusa smiling against his skin, he squeezes his eyes shut as a thumb swipes mischievously along the slit, back and forth, _back and forth—_ “Before the other heroes arrive? Even if he’s been a bad boy?”

“ _Please_ , daddy, _yes_ , want to come! Want to come just for you— _please—_ I won’t do it again, I’ll be a good boy, please—“

“Poor baby…” The hand pumping his member speeds up again, and Hanzo has to muffle his moans against Hayabusa’s shoulder. The hand holding back his hip slowly loosens, but Hanzo doesn’t move—what if he does, and he disobeys his daddy once again? That can’t happen, no—

There is a sharp bite, then sucking, just where his chin meets his neck, a spot that will be effectively hidden by his mask later—but right now, Hanzo can’t even think of hiding it, maybe he’s even proud of it, proud of being claimed, being owned, maybe he won’t put the mask back on—

“… You’re lucky I can’t resist you.” The hand that previously held him down finally reached its new destination, and it grabs his asscheek roughly. And that, shamelessly, along with Hayabusa’s grip on his member, was enough to make him come, staining both his and Hayabusa’s torsos with white, his entire body weakening at the release and satisfaction, he almost slides to the ground if it weren’t for Hayabusa’s hold on him remaining firm. He feels Hayabusa kiss the newly-formed hickey, the slow pumps on his member making sure to milk the best out of his orgasm, and he shivers in contentment, he almost forgot that this started out as a punishment, and that it was a punishment because—

“Haya-kun…” Hanzo mumbles, and luckily Hayabusa seemed to finished with his act, helping Hanzo tuck the limp member back into his pants, smoothing down loose strands of hair. It is a slow process, but Hanzo is able to pick up the loose pieces of himself back together again, armor back in its place, the mask covering the hickey completely. He adjusts his clothes until he is satisfied, the last bits of afterglow making him feel even better, and he turns to Hayabusa, who was waiting expectantly.

“Ready? The match starts in 15 minutes.”

“Yes…” Hanzo blushes—they only had a half-hour break in between games—Hayabusa made him come that fast?—but he’s distracted by the bulge in Hayabusa’s black pants. “Haya-kun—I could have—“

“Focus on the upcoming match, Hanzo, I’ll be fine.” Hayabusa promised him, he had put his hood and mask back on, but his eyes were reassuring and kind. “Besides…” He leaned in to whisper against Hanzo’s ear as other heroes started flooding into the lobby. “…Your punishment isn’t over.”

_It isn’t?_ A part of him wanted to complain, but another part of him contradicted just as quickly— _thank goodness it isn’t…_ In the end, he was left dumbfounded as Hayabusa moved to greet the other heroes, smiling as though he didn’t just handjob the living daylights out of Hanzo. But… if there were a second part to the punishment… then surely it wouldn’t matter whatever he did during this match, right? He could help his love out later, within the bushes, Hayabusa trying to muffle his sounds with so many other heroes roaming close by—

He smirked underneath the mask as hero selection started.

_Looks like I’ll have to antagonize him some more._

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe, everyone! Wash your hands always and practice social distancing!
> 
> comments and kudos are well-appreciated as always :)
> 
> (for updates and other stupid stuff follow me on ig [@cheol_apple](https://www.instagram.com/cheol_apple/) )


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